


Some Things Never Change

by a_quick_drink



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, post-Furious 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3950521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_quick_drink/pseuds/a_quick_drink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen still likes to get his hands dirty. And make trouble...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Never Change

“You realize we could pay someone to do that.”

Ignoring the remark, Owen continued soaping up the wheel in front of him. Yes, he knew someone else could do such a menial task, but nobody touched his cars if he could avoid it. But this beautiful new Aston Martin–-Carter’s anniversary gift to him a few weeks prior-–was more special to him than any of the other cars. Absolutely no one but himself and Carter laid hands on it. Besides, he enjoyed getting his hands dirty and being the one to tend to his vehicles needs. And this way there was no question whether the work done was correct. 

Owen shifted his weight off his bad leg. He never mentioned it but little things like this made him feel somewhat normal again. When the doctors told him he’d probably never walk again, his world shattered. Walking he could live without but driving? He’d sometimes wondered if it wouldn’t be better to die than live a life without that freedom. 

There were other perks to life, of course, though at the time they occasionally slipped his mind because he didn’t do relationships; too much of a liability in his line of work. The moment he’d met Carter, though, he realized he just hadn’t met the person who was worth the risk. And while things were all still a bit shiny and new for them at the time, it was impossible to ignore Carter’s devotion. Surely he had more important things to attend to in Miami, and yet Carter had dropped everything to be with him. The only other person who’d ever given a shite about him was Deckard, and he’d vanished shortly after from what Owen heard. 

And so he’d pushed himself through the months of physical therapy, clinging to that single word the doctors always uttered: _probably_. _Probably_ , his arse. He would show them. 

A long shadow fell over him and Owen looked up, squinting. “Maybe I like doing it myself,” he said, offering Carter a smile as he braced a hand on the car and stood. Carter made no move to help but Owen knew he was watching like a hawk behind those dark lenses.

“How about you wash mine when you’re done?”

Owen shoved the water-logged sponge into Carter’s hands. “Do it yourself.”

Carter’s smirk turned into a frown when he glanced at the dark patch forming on his once dry dress shirt. “Thank you,” he grumbled, “now I need to change.” He tugged his shirt from his waistband, muttering obscenities to himself in Spanish while Owen huffed a laugh.

Served him right for wasting a perfect spring day on business. Owen stepped past Carter and stooped to pick up the hose. “I could make it worth your while,” he said, finger hovering over the knob. A bit of pressure and Carter would be changing more than just his shirt.

Before he could open the valve, though, Carter snatched the hose from his hands and tossed it aside. He grabbed Owen by the hips and maneuvered him backwards until he was sandwiched between husband and car. Water seeped through his clothing, though he hardly cared. 

Fingers curled tighter but still not hard enough, not like it used to be. Not like he needed. Carter still handled him like fine china, unwilling to be the cause of more pain, and it drove Owen crazy. He understood Carter’s reservations but the pain dealt from those loving hands was completely different; never malicious, but rather a delicate balance of pleasure and pain designed to leave him aching for more. 

And, oh, how he ached. 

Growling his frustration, Owen hooked his fingers on Carter’s pockets and ground against him. “Come on, Papi,” he taunted, “you won’t break me.” 

Carter hesitated for a moment but then took Owen’s face in his hands and kissed him gently, lips twitching into a smirk as he pulled away. “You sure about that, cariño?” The endearment rolled off his tongue and sent a shiver skittering up Owen’s spine.

Before Owen could answer, Carter spun him around and pinned him against the side of the car. It wasn’t his usual show of force but at least it was a start. 

Owen gasped. 

“You like that?” Carter purred in his ear, arm snaking around Owen’s neck and pulling him back so he was molded against Carter. “Want me to bend you over that hood and fuck you right here?” He pressed kisses against the scarred column of Owen’s neck, each one another splash of gasoline on the fire burning in his gut.

Biting his lip against a whimper, Owen nodded.

“I can’t hear you, cariño.”

“Yes.”

“ _Yes_ , what?”

Clenching his teeth, Owen snorted. “Please,” he growled. 

And just like that Carter released him and stepped away, chuckling. He sauntered away without another word as if hadn’t just wound Owen up for nothing. That bastard. He supposed he couldn’t blame him, but if Carter thought he’d somehow won this round by being the bigger tease, he was mistaken. 

“Goddammit, Owen,” Carter bellowed from the garage several minutes later. “Quit stealing my keys!”


End file.
